


Harvey Specter Doesn't Do Gay Panic

by thatotherperv



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Cluelessness, M/M, Sexual Identity, started before s2 and finished during s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey flirts with men.  He does it to close a deal, to make transactions easier, to build working relationships he can cash in on later - all  without the slightest hint of shame. He doesn't flirt with men for sex.  Not because that would be shameful, just because...<i>because</i>.  He just doesn't.</p><p>ETA: formerly "the one where Harvey is straight...ish."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: I just asked that several of my fics be removed from GoodReads - I am NOT comfortable with my work being on that site. please be courteous and do not add an author profile or any of my work. Thanks!
> 
>  
> 
> thanks to mskatej for the beta!
> 
> I'm not quite done writing this one, but I'm close and I figured a deadline would help me pull the trigger on the rest. placeholder title for now because I'm lazy and you guys seem to be letting me get away with it :)
> 
> this fic was born before season 2 began, so...I never specify but it seems to be in some nebulous season 1ish place.
> 
> also, I feel like I'm playing cliche bingo. WHEE!

Harvey flirts with men.

Jessica's word, not his. He'd put it more like...well, _charm_ as a verb leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Calling it that makes it anything but. 

It's the closest word he has, though. For that tone he gets when he's really in the zone, and he knows he can push someone right into the corner where he needs them – with facts and case law and logic, of course, but if he really has to, on force of personality alone.

Flirtation – if you have to call it that – is just another tool in the box. Alongside obfuscation, deception and intimidation. In some ways, more effective than all of those combined. Give anyone that buzz of feeling interesting and important, on the inside of the joke, and you're more than halfway home.

So yeah, ok. He flirts with clients, judges, and opposing counsel. He does it to close a deal, to make transactions easier, and build working relationships he can cash in on later. And he does all this without the slightest hint of shame.

He does not flirt with men for sex. Not because that would be shameful, just because... _because_. He just doesn't. 

Harvey flirts with men for profit. Until he meets ~~Rick Sorkin~~ Mike Ross, and it starts being for fun.

*

Because, let's face it, Harvey doesn't _need_ to flirt with Mike to get his way (more or less). When Harvey says jump, Mike sneaks off to steal a pogo stick. And although he might brain himself with it at first, he ends up achieving more vertical lift than Harvey asked for.

It gives Harvey a special kind of power rush each and every time. It's obedience, but not unthinking. Mike wants to please Harvey but not simply by following orders – which, Harvey won't admit out loud, gets tedious after a while. No, Mike absorbs Harvey's orders then thinks up new and often perilous ways to accomplish things himself.

So flirtation, in Mike's case, isn't really a tool. With or without it, Mike likes Harvey, and wants to fall in step towards a common goal. As for making his life easier, Harvey's fairly sure there's no power in the universe which can make that word apply to life with Mike.

If he'd had to name a reason for it early on – if he'd been conscious that he was doing it at all – Harvey would've said he flirted with Mike as a reward. But that's an indirect and partial truth.

That's truth enough for other people, but not enough to feed himself.

The whole truth, the big true truth, is that rewarding Mike is a whole other rush for Harvey. He gives Mike a little and he gets it back ten-fold. Not because Mike tries harder – that comes standard with his loyalty – but by some intrinsic mechanism Harvey has yet to understand.

All this has been in motion since the moment they met, when Mike looked straight at him, weed scattered all over the silk Persian rug and said, "Yeeahh, so...this is exactly what it looks like. Sorry." 

And Harvey flashed his best flirting grin, with no discernible motive, and said, "Now why do I think there's more to it than that?"

That's when it began, in a way, but not....quite. Because Harvey doesn't _know_ it has til nearly three months later, when Donna stalks into his office, passing Mike on his way out.

"You _know_ I never interfere, but...seriously, what are you doing?"

"You never interfere?" Harvey asks her. That's news to him. 

She ignores that. "I don't want to think you're playing with him for fun, but I'm running out of other explanations."

Harvey frowns in the direction Mike just disappeared. That's the most recent _him_ Harvey could possibly be playing with. And yes, he does play with Mike, for various reasons, but just now? He was not.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Some of the intensity goes out in Donna's eyes. She straightens out of her aggressive lean and searches his face. "Wait. You _don't_ know."

He speaks slowly, like she's a child. "That's right. I really don't. Why don't you enlighten me?"

She smirks. "You're a bright boy. Review that last conversation, and why don't you tell _me_?"

He thinks. Mike brought him an update on a case – it might be something, but a lot more research was needed. Harvey was feeling magnanimous with Mike, who'd been performing all his tricks well lately, so he offered to help get it done. Harvey's all-nighters at the office were behind him, though, so he offered up his home as a venue.

That's it.

"What? I was being _nice_. I didn't screw with him at all."

The fond exasperation on Donna's face is usually directed at Mike. "Harvey. You were hitting on him."

She couldn't have stunned him any better with a hammer between the eyes. "What?"

"You told him you wanted him naked," she says. 

He did no - "I did no such thing!"

"You said at least you could both be comfortable working from your place, and he said not really, since he'd still be in his suit. You leered and made a joke about slipping into something else, and when he said he wouldn't have anything, you told him you found 'nothing' very comfortable."

Harvey blinks. Yes, that...ok, that part of the conversation _happened_ , but - "I was joking. He – I tease him all the time!"

"You _flirt_ with him all the time, and it's been getting steadily worse."

Harvey patently trusts Donna's judgment. She gives him a hard time about never asking for advice, but that's partly because she volunteers it before he ever can. There's no reason she would lie to him; this could be an elaborate hoax – in which case, bravo – but she's not _that_ good an actress.

Still, she's just. What she's saying makes no sense. "He has a _penis_ ," he explains, and immediately regrets the phrasing at the joy that lights her face.

"I'll have to take your word on that one." He's very close to sputtering, which Harvey Specter doesn't do, when she says, "Seriously. The kid is half in love with you, and you're just stringing him along. If his hero-worship were a little less crippling, he'd've crawled in your lap by now. So stop it."

That image twists his stomach in new and interesting ways. But. "I wasn't - "

She gives him a cutting look. "You might not mean to, but you have been."

She walks out while Harvey's head's still spinning.

*

It takes Harvey roughly three hours of thinking about precious little else to admit that Donna's right. His denials weren't _Denial_...but he had to rearrange his frame of reference before the facts aligned correctly.

Because. Well. Mike Ross is male. Harvey doesn't... _do_ that. Or maybe he should say 'didn't,' because apparently, now he does.

Harvey Specter doesn't stoop to gay panic. Primarily because he doesn't stoop to panic of any kind. But he finds himself a little baffled by this turn of events. Once he accepts that Donna's right, that only makes things more confusing.

Is this some...mid-life...thing? 

He applies his brand new reference frame to everything he can think of. Has he hit on any other men in recent months? Has he hit on men at _any_ point in his life? He's pretty sure the answer to both those questions is no. But he can't say that with certitude, which bothers him more than he likes.

After all, yesterday he would've sworn he'd never hit on Mike, either. He would've meant it completely, and he would've been completely wrong.

He's tempted, for a moment, to use Donna as his soothsayer. But she's probably enjoying this enough without him saying, "Is it possible I didn't know that I'm actually a little bit gay?"

He won't even _mind_ if he is...there could be benefits. But it's startling to think he never knew this about himself. 

"Harvey? Do you want me to go?"

"What?"

Mike is looking at him strangely. "You've been staring at that same page for half an hour."

Shit. "I'm just – " grasping at straws because you've upended my entire sexual identity – "tired."

"Ok," Mike says, but he looks skeptical. "I can take this back to the office. If you don't feel well."

Mike's hair looks like a thousand fingers have been through it, his tie is off, his collar's undone, and Harvey flashes to the comment that Donna thought was too far. 

"Maybe you should. Go."

Mike looks disappointed and vaguely hurt, but Harvey has no clue what he's doing, and he's obviously not getting work done tonight. Until he sorts this out, he shouldn't put himself in the position of doing something very stupid. 

Like telling Mike he should get comfortable after all.


	2. Identity Crisis

Harvey doesn't sleep that night. He comes close a few times, falling into a sort of fugue state, but his mind can't seem to rest.

Now that he's been made conscious of the problem, he keeps recalling dozens of passing comments he's made since meeting Mike. They range from dancing right on the line to being blatantly inappropriate. 

Harvey's never been that guy. It jolts him to realize he has been, with Mike.

He's appalled with himself, the more he thinks about it. He and Donna have a rhythm, built on years of trust, that includes being occasionally, slightly off-color. But even with her, he'd never say some of the things he remembers saying to Mike.

Mike doesn't have a foundation from which to trust him. He's also more vulnerable to Harvey when it comes to his employment; Donna could and would move on if he ever made her uncomfortable – or more likely, she'd slap him down so hard, he'd continue seeing stars for a week. But Harvey could easily kill Mike's career, even if he had a real JD. As he stands without one, Harvey's his only shot.

He's damn lucky Mike returns the attraction, and appears to take the flirting as harmless fun – because he definitely has grounds for a sexual harassment suit. 

Worse, actually. Mike, with their secret, might feel unable to file charges in the first place...might feel trapped and powerless against Harvey's advances. Harvey doesn't see any evidence that's the case, but it could've been, and that makes him feel sick.

Whatever's going on with Harvey personally, hitting on Mike has absolutely got to stop. Light flirting might be ok; he doesn't want Mike to feel like he's done something wrong. But there's a line he won't cross, now that he realizes he's been crossing it regularly. 

No more talking about Mike naked, or in women's clothing. Or in a sexual position, or performing a sexual act (Christ, yes, he did that...it didn't ring alarm bells at the time, Harvey thinks, because Mike's a man). No indicating he thinks about Mike doing any of the above.

Problem is, he hadn't _actually_ been thinking about it. But now he is. He spends the rest of the night trying really hard not to.

*

He's too old to lose an entire night's sleep and show up at work looking fresh as a daisy. 

Donna gives him a look when he arrives. It's knowing and amused, but there's a lurking sympathy. And when Mike walks in, looking slightly worse for wear himself, he actually stops in his tracks. 

"Wow. Um. I thought you were going to bed, right after I left."

Harvey bites back his first response, and reaches out for the files impatiently. "Don't get cute with me today, Mike."

Mike hands everything over and flops into a chair. "Aw, Harvey, you can't discriminate against me for a natural condition."

Harvey rolls his eyes, and manages to suppress half his smile. He's pleased but not surprised to see that Mike found what they needed, enough to clinch the case in favor of their client. "This is good," he pronounces, setting it aside.

Mike is studying him, head tilted like his ears are cocked for more. 

"What, you want treats? Walkies?"

Mike huffs as if his face isn't now lit from the inside. "You're an obnoxious example of a human being."

"You love it," Harvey says, and he sees the hint of discomfort lurking beneath Mike's eye-roll...sees exactly what Donna was saying. 

Mike _does_ love it. And that's....

Irrelevant. All the problems with this remain, and acting on it would result in the kind of mess Harvey avoids. But knowing Mike's attracted – or rather, seeing it first-hand – makes Harvey's heart thud in an alien, uncomfortable way.

"...Harvey?"

"That was me, wondering why you're still in my office. Shoo."

He doesn't watch Mike leave, and he doesn't look at Donna, since she's undoubtedly giving him the eyebrow.

*

Harvey is not in the habit of accepting substitutes for what he wants. But in this case, there's a clear conflict between what he wants for his dick (Mike) and what he wants for his career (Mike, and winning). 

Given those choices, there is absolutely no contest.

When Harvey can't have exactly what he wants, he doesn't settle for the next best thing. He puts it from his mind, and finds something different that he can want just as much.

So after a month of impulses he can't give into and dreams that are (frankly) too vivid for Harvey's comfort, he tells himself that's what he's going to do. It can't _just_ be Mike; Harvey doesn't think it works that way. He still finds this new aspect of himself slightly alarming, but Harvey hasn't gotten where he is by putting his head in the sand.

Fifteen years of socializing with clients, and Harvey's been to a wide variety of establishments, some of them catering to gay men – he won't do business anywhere people aren't fully clothed, but beyond that, he's willing to meet a client's preferences.

So there's a place that he knows that he thinks will do the trick. If he's going to do this, it's going to be on his terms – no thumping baselines and altered states of consciousness. This place is like a classy sports bar. It doesn't even market itself as a gay bar, particularly. Harvey's been there for lunch and in the early evening, and he'd gotten the impression the atmosphere shifted at night from a place to share a drink to a place to find a pickup. 

The key to dealing with a lot of unknowns is to stack the deck as much as possible in your favor. This place is probably the best he can hope for. It's not quite upscale enough for most of his clientele, but it's nice enough to meet Harvey's standards, and it seemed to attract a down-to-earth element.

He's been there a half dozen times without thinking twice, but this time.... 

Harvey hasn't been this nervous about the idea of meeting someone since he was a kid with ill-fitting clothes and a mild case of acne. 

He gets dressed like he would for any evening out. Same wardrobe, same cologne, same amount of thought given to every aspect of his appearance. He picks something up at the car club to suit his mood – which just happens to involve a lot of power under the hood. He pays the usual appreciation to the valet attendant and bartender, he keeps his body language open and engages the other patrons casually. He is relaxed and charming and _on_ like any other night.

He's fairly certain that no one can tell his heart is pounding and his palms are actually sweaty.

He's Harvey Specter. He didn't come this far just to change his mind. He keeps an eye out for someone that interests him, he flirts in an aimless way with several possibilities and rules them all out quickly. He just isn't...they're not....

Harvey didn't come this far to change his mind, but he also has nothing to prove. He's not going to take someone home who doesn't stir his interest. And all the men he's spoken with so far...there's nothing wrong with them, they're objectively attractive, some of them are even interesting, but none of them make him _want_.

The most promising prospect so far makes him...curious, at least, but Harvey can't make up his mind whether to bite the bullet or not. The fact that he's even thinking in those terms is discouraging, and if Mark were a woman, he wouldn't even bother. But it's starting to occur to Harvey that he won't have the nerve to try this again, and maybe....

Well. They've reached the stage of the conversation where he needs to make a decision. He either wants to do this or not. And Harvey is honestly uncertain – in a way that's even stranger to him than his late-blooming homosexual tendencies.

He's doing his best to balance this calculation with his side of the conversation when an arm suddenly slips around his waist, making him jolt a little with surprise. 

He turns his head and finds Mike pressed against him.

Harvey feels caught-out and speechless for a moment, but Mike just smiles up at him like this is all perfectly normal. "Ready to go home?"

"Yes."

It's out of his mouth before he can consciously process the question, and when Harvey looks up, Mark looks mildly annoyed and trying to hide it. Harvey can't blame him. This is very poor form.

But he's swamped with such a wave of relief that he actually lets Mike guide him out the door. When they're out on the street and Mike's asking how he got here, if he drove or took a cab...the momentary insanity of letting him take charge falls away.

"What the hell was that?"

Mike looks at him like he's crazy. "Uh, that was me getting you out of a conversation you clearly didn't want to be in. You're welcome."

Harvey feels the presumptuousness of that rear up and choke him. He turns back towards the door to the bar, but it's a bust and he can't go back in there now. "Mike, have you ever known me to do _anything_ I didn't want to?"

"Um." Some discomfort enters Mike's self-assured expression. "No." 

Harvey pulls his wallet out, movements jerky with anger, and presents his valet ticket to the kid who's currently spectating their argument. "Well, this was no exception."

"Harvey. I'm sorry, ok? You just looked like you needed - " Mike stops abruptly at Harvey's narrow-eyed look. "I mean, you looked fine, I'm sure no one could tell you were uncomfortable, but you get this extra wrinkle when you're really faking your smile and – ok, not, not an extra _wrinkle_ , you are in no way old, I'm just saying that I know you and I could tell that you - "

Harvey's car pulls up and he gets behind the wheel; Mike can stand on the curb and dig himself as deep as he wants. But before Harvey can take off, Mike installs himself in the passenger seat.

Harvey takes a few calm, even breaths through his nose. Mike is silent, and is only looking at him in sideways, poorly-concealed glances. Harvey pulls away from the curb, and after a moment of aimless driving, heads towards Brooklyn.

Best to get rid of Mike before Mike starts asking questions. Like - 

"First time at a gay bar, huh?" Harvey shoots him a withering look, which Mike misinterprets while failing to wither. "You know what I meant. First time in one _with a purpose_."

"I rarely do anything without purpose. You should know that."

Mike actually rolls his eyes; Harvey can tell without even looking. "First time in a gay bar to pick up a dude. For sex. I guess I should specify, since you're being so cagey."

Harvey doesn't answer. His personal life is none of Mike's goddamn business, and the kid should know that. 

They make it all the way over the bridge before Mike speaks again. "Harvey, I shouldn't have done that. Honestly, I thought you'd...I didn't think. Okay? Let's just forget this even happened."

Harvey is so on board with that sentiment, he's already begun and doesn't acknowledge that Mike's speaking. Which might be why Mike can't seem to shut up.

"I'm just saying, if you're going through a thing, or you're questioni - "

Harvey gives Mike a look so sharp, he doesn't finish his gerund. 

"Or I could shut up."

"Good choice."

Harvey stops alongside a row of parked cars, somewhere in Mike's neighborhood. He doesn't know if they're anywhere near Mike's address, and he doesn't really care. Mike looks poised to give him directions, then he stops himself, pulls the door handle, and gets out.

He's barely out the door when Harvey peels off, letting the passenger door swing shut on its own.


	3. Break Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, DEAR GOD, I am so sorry this dragged out so long. I was cursed for the entire month of October – my apartment flooded, then I lived in a hotel for 10 days, then I had to move 24 hours after I regained access to my apartment, and then as soon as my new place was livable, I came down with the plague. I could barely function for 2 miserable weeks. 
> 
> No one wants to think about sexytiems when they’re hocking up bright green goo. Sad but true. And then November just like…I blinked and it was gone.
> 
> Finally sticking a title on this bad boy – it fails all my personal title tests but it was the best I had. Then again, normally I don’t title chapters, but this time they were right there to be had, so maybe it balances out somewhere
> 
> and thanks as always to mskatej for beta - this seriously might not have been finished if it wasn't for her. she is a hero among women :)

Come Monday morning, Mike _does_ seem content to remain silent about the incident. But Harvey doesn't have the luxury of pretending he's forgotten; while he's not yammering on about their chance encounter, he does keep... _watching_ Harvey in this way that Harvey refuses to find unsettling.

Harvey doesn't blush. It's partly complexion, partly disposition, and while he's grateful to not broadcast any _outward_ sign of discomfort, he is acutely embarrassed every time he finds Mike watching him. And he's angry about it as well. 

He's done nothing to be embarrassed about, dammit.

By Thursday, he's experiencing a level of paranoia on the subject that, if he were to admit it aloud, would merit the use of silly words like 'doubloon.' It's a window into what it's like to be Mike, probably, and it has Harvey thanking Christ it's not him. Usually.

He's feeling pretty ridiculous until his doorbell rings, and it's Mike. He has this look on his face, and...well. It's not paranoia if they're actually out to get you.

"You used to flirt with me."

Harvey huffs out a breath. He only has two neighbors, a socially conservative older couple who wouldn't appreciate Mike's _Say Anything_ antics at 11pm on a weeknight. On the other hand, if he invites Mike in, it will encourage the conversation.

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Good night."

Of course, Mike sticks his foot in the door before Harvey can manage to slam it in his face. His reflexes are faster when he shows up sober. 

When Harvey opens back up enough to maintain a conversation, Mike continues as though he hadn't been interrupted. "I used to think you were screwing with me, or that it was just a meaningless habit."

"It was."

"And then you stopped, and got all weird."

Harvey doesn't know about that part, but - "It was brought to my attention that the joke had gone too far."

"And then I find you in a gay bar - "

And ok, the conversation has officially gone beyond what he can conduct in the hallway. Harvey grabs Mike's arm and yanks him inside. Mike doesn't even pause.

" - acting incredibly uncomfortable and on the verge of a hookup with a guy who looks like me."

Harvey's incensed. "He did not." He was pretty sure. Did he? They might be of a type, but....

"So feel free to hit me if I'm wrong about this." 

There's nothing abrupt about the way Mike kisses him. It isn't hesitant either, but there is plenty of time for Harvey to pull away. He just chooses not to. He accepts the kiss passively for a moment, just letting it happen while he weighs his options. 

Mike's already convinced of his own conclusions. The kid's like a pit bull once he's made his mind up. Or, maybe a terrier. Persistent but less vicious. Point is, even if Harvey did a bang-up denial of everything Mike's saying, Mike will continue to believe it. Forever.

Which would be awkward and annoying. And incredibly disruptive to their working relationship. 

Or they can fuck. Probably still disruptive, but not awkward or annoying if Mike's kissing technique is any indication. 

Harvey cuts his losses on the Not Fucking Mike plan. 

As soon as Harvey starts kissing him back, Mike laughs against his mouth. "Welcome to the party. I'll assume you just surveyed all the angles and concluded this isn't going to ruin our lives."

"More like 'it will, but I don't give a fuck.'"

"Potato, Potahto."

"Shut up, Mike."

"You're the one who - "

Harvey doesn't make a habit of silencing the people he sleeps with - because he's not that kind of jackass - but this is Mike. The rules are different, always have been. The kid's _going_ to keep talking as long as his mouth's free, so before he can finish his inane accusation, Harvey shoves him, sharp and impatient, against the wall.

There's a soft little huff as Mike's breath is knocked out of him, and a beat of surprise on both their parts. Long enough for Harvey to wonder where that came from, and recognize the flush on Mike's face. The impulse wasn't unwelcome.

Harvey takes his time closing the distance. It's a little surreal to know that he's going to kiss Mike. Surreal that he's actually experiencing nerves. They're the good kind, but it's been so long since Harvey felt anything but confident here. He's confident now, that this will be good and he'll enjoy it, but there's a roller-coaster thrill in his stomach, so old it's new again.

So he takes a moment. Mike is quiet – the threat of kissing apparently as effective as actually doing it. He doesn't try to bridge the gap, even when their mouths are just inches apart; Harvey's hand is on his throat, thumb resting on a quick pulse, but the restraint's not necessary. Harvey knows that it's not, because Mike's eyes are bright and focused, waiting on Harvey to give some cue.

Harvey feels something settle in his chest at the complete familiarity of that expression.

The first kiss is a press of lips, and their eyes stay open. The second isn't much more – enough time for Mike's mouth to give before Harvey pulls away. He can feel how buzzed Mike is; his heartbeat is quick and his muscles are strung tight. He doesn't look impatient, though. He looks the way he always does before Harvey lets him off the leash. On point.

But he's Mike – by nature, pushy – so when the third kiss starts like the last, he presses forward just a little to make it more. In other words, he beats Harvey to the punch he was planning to deliver, and Harvey breaks contact just to prove a point before pushing back in and sliding their mouths together. Mike's smile is something he can feel more than see, and it grows wider when he feels Harvey's own. 

He forestalls any gloating by moving his hand from Mike's throat to the back of his neck – immediately, Mike tilts his head and the kiss gets serious.

Mike's a great kisser; the first time, when Harvey had been thinking, he'd been aggressive, but now he's letting Harvey lead and it's just as hot. The ease with which he does both sends Harvey's mind running down roads he's not ready for yet.

Not quite yet.

Mike's hands slide from the notch of Harvey's waist around his back, fisting in his t-shirt and bringing them that much closer, and Harvey hums. The shock of heat goes right to his toes. His own hand migrates up Mike's rib cage under his suit jacket but shifts direction before actually trying to tease a breast that's not there – it's a reflex, a deeply-ingrained move at this stage of the game to run his thumb along the underside. 

While he figures Mike appreciates attention to his nipples, for now he strokes back down Mike's flank and grabs his ass. He enjoys it so much, he brings his other hand down to squeeze the other cheek. Mike makes a sound of approval and rolls his hips.

Mike is hard and Harvey's getting there; the grinding pressure feels so good that he needs to break for air.

Mike apparently doesn't need air to live, though, and starts sucking bites under Harvey's jaw, fingers slipping down under the waist of Harvey's pants. "Fuck, Mike." 

He can barely breathe. He knows he's wanted other people this much, but he can't remember when. 

"You gonna fuck me? I want that." It's a bad line. It's not a line that should drive Harvey out of his mind. It does, though. Reality goes a little fuzzy at the edges, and he goes for Mike's mouth. 

The kissing is sloppy now and just a little vicious, and Harvey slides his hand between Mike's legs from behind. He's not really thinking it through when he does, but it turns out massaging Mike's taint is a great plan, so he's feeling pretty good about his chances of hitting this out of the park.

Which is nice. He'd never admit it now, but all his other firsts were as inelegant as anyone's. 

As if he has a wire-tap straight into Harvey's mind, Mike stops gasping long enough to say, "Jesus, is this really – have you never – " and Harvey decides, A) he's not answering that, and B) he'd like to get naked already.

When he pulls away, he gives Mike a look that's probably less effective when he's sex-flushed and erect, but Mike looks suitably chastised. And just a little panicky when Harvey turns to walk away. Presumably, the panic fades when Harvey strips his shirt off and drops it on the floor.

Harvey's naked by the time Mike trails into the bedroom. 

He hangs back in the doorway for a beat, mouth slack as he stares. Then he's stepping forward, yanking his tie loose and dropping it, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders. 

He stops less than a foot in front of Harvey, searching his eyes. "I really, really never thought this was gonna happen."

Harvey can't help the wry curl of his mouth. "Neither did I."

Mike smiles at him, eyes dropping as his hands come to rest light on Harvey's bare hips. His tongue swipes his bottom lip, and when he looks back up through his lashes, Harvey thinks, that really shouldn't work. But it does. "I've thought about it though."

His mouth is dry. "Have you?"

"A lot." Harvey's mind blanks out as Mike gets on his knees. "I started thinking about _this_ right after we met – when I got down to shove the pot back in the briefcase, and you just stood there watching, and I looked up, and. Shit, Harvey, if you'd asked, I'd've blown you then."

It wouldn't have occurred to him to ask, but right now, Harvey can picture it. He remembers the moment Mike's talking about, and it's not at all difficult to imagine a pornographic ending – he imagines, and rests his hand on Mike's crown as Mike starts to suck him.

Jesus. _Jesus_. He's looking up at Harvey, still half in his work clothes – cheeks hollowed, eyes bright. His mouth feels amazing, and he moans when Harvey squeezes his neck, pulling off and doing a sloppy, filthy job of licking Harvey's length. 

"Jesus, Harvey, your face."

"Isn't that my line?"

"I dunno, I mean, it might be weird to refer to yourself in the third person right now." Mike's jacking him as he mouths off, hand gliding on the copious amount of spit he left behind – maybe it should be strange, but it's not. It's just _them_ , only easier, maybe – free, the way Mike laughs up at the look on Harvey's face before he leans in and suckles the head of Harvey's dick.

He's good at this, familiar and practiced, and Harvey wonders how often he sleeps with men. How he has the _time_ , with all his girl drama. Then again, there was Trevor – and Harvey shuts that line of thought down quick.

It's obvious Mike _enjoys_ sucking cock, too. His eyes are dark and his cheeks are flushed, and he hums when Harvey scratches through hair too short to hold. By the time he starts touching himself through his suit pants, Harvey finds he's impatient to get Mike's clothes off.

"C'mon, get up." He doesn't have to say it twice – Mike's on his feet and they're kissing, moving towards the bed while Harvey fumbles with shirt buttons. It's embarrassing, but they're backwards; Mike pushes his hands away and takes over, and Harvey starts in on his belt and fly – which are _also_ backwards, what the _fuck_ – and Mike laughs at his baffled cursing.

"It's a historical holdover – even when they had valets, men generally dressed themselves, while women – "

" _I don't care_ ," Harvey says, because yes, he'd asked the question, but the answer's not that relevant. Mike's down to his undershirt when Harvey pushes him back onto the bed. He squirms out of it while Harvey works his fly – with care, trying to minimize the throwback to being fifteen and clumsy.

Mike lifts his hips and Harvey strips the rest of his clothes off quickly – just a brief hangup with the shoes they both forgot he's still wearing. Mike shifts further back on the mattress, pulling Harvey down for a kiss that goes dirty quickly, the two of them skin-on-skin.

It's a horizontal, clothing-optional replay of their make-out in the hallway – lazy but desperate, turned up to eleven. Mike tastes like sex, and it makes Harvey want to get his mouth on him, make him crazy. He's just not in a hurry about it. He may only have been conscious of his desire to kiss Mike for a handful of weeks, but it feels longer. 

Harvey's enjoying the push-pull rhythm they've got going until the third time Mike tries to seriously take control. He's surprised by how irritated the realization makes him, because he doesn't normally care how – 

Mike pushes a little harder to roll Harvey onto his back and he plants his weight, making himself an immovable object. Because one look at Mike's face makes him realize Mike thinks Harvey's stalling...that he needs to be _handled_. 

And...no. That won't do.

Harvey's hand on his dick abruptly ends the attempted coup, and Harvey sits up and straddles Mike's thighs, concentrating on learning to jack him. Familiar, obviously, but (again) backwards – thirty years of muscle memory makes navigating the head from this angle a bit tricky. Harvey's hand-eye coordination has always been excellent, though; it only takes a few minutes to conquer the basics before he can get on with discovering what Mike enjoys.

Mike's responsive, a more open book than usual, so that's easy. He kneads Harvey's quads when he's on the right track, swears around his name. His hips are working counterpoint to Harvey's hand, fucking his fist. So hot; Harvey allows Mike to drag him back for a kiss – messy and biting – before he pulls away and backs down enough to get his mouth around Mike's dick. 

He has to shift a few times before he finds a comfortable angle – his initial approach more well-suited to eating pussy. He can already tell that a blowjob, unlike a handjob, is going to take longer to master. He knows what makes a good one, but translating that knowledge into action is more difficult than he expected. Mike's enjoying himself, from the sound of things, but it takes all of Harvey's concentration to manage the basics. Clearly the moves he's used to are advanced-class, and he vows to not take them for granted in the future.

Harvey remembers when cunnilingus was this hard and exhausting, but that was decades ago. He keeps going til his mouth is almost numb, then cooperates when Mike pulls him up his body. There's nothing worse than an interminable session of mediocre head. 

"That's harder than it looks," he admits casually when Mike lets him break away. He doesn't let it _show_ , but he feels uncomfortably apologetic at his lack of greatness.

Mike's eyes are on his mouth, distractedly tracing his thumb along the bottom divot. "Do you have _any_ idea how hot it is, being your first for something? Jesus, Harvey – " 

Maybe it's Harvey's own fault for acknowledging the elephant, but either way, he doesn't want to talk about what experience he may or may not have. Mike seems to pick something up from the look on his face, because he stops talking and starts kissing.

It's a little sweeter than Harvey was expecting but it's good, and before long Mike cants his hips and starts a dirty tease with his tongue. It's a practiced move but the intent behind it is honest; Harvey can feel how quickly Mike gets absorbed in the simple hedonism of rubbing against each other naked, and it's fucking sexy. Harvey watches Mike fight to keep his eyes on Harvey as they kiss, as if seeing his face is half the turn-on. 

"Harvey." Mike's hands find Harvey's ass, helping the filthy grind along. "God, I want you to fuck me. Will you?"

The frank request turns Harvey on too much for him to even tease. "Yeah."

"Good," Mike says, but hangs on a little longer to kiss him and slide their bodies together.

Harvey sits up and there's a brief, perfunctory shuffle – Harvey grabbing the lube and condom, Mike turning lengthwise on the bed – then Harvey's behind Mike, working lube against his asshole and pressing one finger inside. 

Mike tilts his hips immediately to take him in, looking back over his shoulder. "You can start with two." When Harvey does, he makes a soft, horny sound and says "yeah," spreading his legs wider and rocking back.

Harvey knows what he's doing, as he starts to stretch Mike out. He's done anal with women – never understood the fetishization for its own sake, but when they love it, so does he. He loves the built-in tease of it. He loves the slow build-up and the difference in sensation; he loves being able to play with a woman's pussy while he fucks her.

So this is not _new_ to Harvey; he is, in no way, fumbling. It's good, after the mixed success of the blowjob, to see Mike's spine arch and twist as he gets into it – for his only suggestion to be a breathless "harder." Mike likes it when Harvey is rough, when he pushes the envelope further than he would, normally. 

Further than he would enjoy himself, for certain. There's a small degree of discomfort from being fingered that Harvey's never gotten past; he doesn't enjoy it at all unless his cock is getting sucked at the same time, and even then, not unless he's already worked up. He's been avoiding Mike's prostate because he finds it personally unpleasant until he's very aroused, but the rest of his preferences are obviously not the case for Mike. Neither one of them are even touching his dick, yet he's into it, and the introduction of a third finger, too soon in Harvey's estimation, makes Mike groan and claw at the sheets, shoving back against the thrust.

Harvey squeezes Mike's ass with his free hand and changes his angle as he thrusts so his fingertips exert pressure along the front wall. He thought he'd need to read Mike's body language, use trial and error as he would to find the g-spot, but it's patently obvious once he touches Mike's prostate and feels the swelling. Mike's breath hitches and he digs his knees into the mattress, making room to get his hand around his dick. 

"Harvey...."

He teases around and against it for a while, until Mike's jerking himself at a steady tempo, breathing ragged and straining for more. Then he gives it to him.

"Fuck, fuck... _yeah_...."

Mike's balls are tight when Harvey palms them and gives the kind of squeezing massage that makes him crazy when he's on edge. Mike’s breath sticks with what's almost a sob, muscles clenching, and his hand stops moving, gripping the base of his dick instead.

Harvey gives him a moment, easing off but not stopping, until Mike pants out, "Shit, Harvey, are you sure you've never done this?"

Harvey leans in and keeps his satisfaction at that comment out of his tone as he speaks directly in Mike's ear. "If at any point you imply _I'm_ the rookie in this situation...I'm kicking you out of bed."

"Not...no!" Mike says with a slightly frantic note. "If anything, I was implying that you're a lying slut."

Harvey thinks about that for a moment. "True. But my threat still holds."

Of course, Mike rolls his eyes because his chastisement never lasts long. "Fine, you're a gay sex savant. Happy now?"

Harvey's hand strikes Mike's ass, in what turns out to be a brilliant instinct; Mike goes lax and then shudders. "Very."

"Jesus, I should have known you'd be the toppiest top who never topped. Can you get your dick in me now? Please?"

To say no would be perverse, and completely contrary to Harvey's own wants. Mike lucks out there. Harvey rolls on the condom and Mike pushes fully onto his knees.

The first press inside is a quick, rough shove that causes Mike to press his face against the sheets with a cut-off curse. Unsure if that's good or bad, Harvey grinds against him to give him time – but when Mike says, "Quit being a fucking tease, Jesus Christ," then it's on.

Mike manages to brace himself effectively against the power of Harvey's thrusts, all his muscles going taut. The pretty dip-flex of his back grows shiny with exertion, but he doesn't take it quietly – he has a filthy fucking mouth in bed. Harvey should've known. 

Harvey fucks him at a punishing pace until Mike's cursing devolves into a monosyllabic preorgasmic nonsensical soup, then Harvey hauls him upright, limp-spined, to lean back against his chest. 

It's a splash of ice water to see that Mike is soft. Harvey falters; Mike grabs his ass and slurs out, "Holy shit, don't stop," just as Harvey says, "Are you okay?"

Confused, Mike looks at Harvey and then follows his line of sight down. "No, hey, that's normal, it feels great. C'mon." Mike reaches back and strokes the tendons at the base of Harvey's skull, fingers strumming up through the short hair til he reaches a thicker part of the cut where he can really anchor in. The light pull brings Harvey's face against his throat and Mike shudders; Harvey brushes his lips against the spot more deliberately, enjoying Mike's reaction. 

The longer Harvey plays him, the deeper Mike's hips work against Harvey's dick, until Mike's rocking hard enough to make the bed springs really complain, fucking himself on it. He sounds blissed out; he's full of breathy groans and encouragements, short nails digging into Harvey's scalp – he's flaccid but he's definitely not faking this. 

One thing Harvey loves about Mike is that whatever kind of pushover he is for a sob story, he sure as hell isn't quiet when his own needs aren't met. 

It's hot that Mike's so into this; it's so fucking hot that he's pretty much writhing on Harvey's dick right now – this articulate kid reduced to a few words he gasps out and repeats like it's all he knows. Now that Harvey's fucking him again, thrusting short and hard in counterpoint to Mike's movement, Mike's enjoyment has kicked up even further; Harvey just can't be in the moment himself until he _understands_. Til he understands what Mike is getting out of this and level up the experience – if he's not working towards getting Mike off, then what?

When Harvey abruptly stops moving again, just to see, Mike's "Harvey" is perturbed but he doesn't stop using Harvey's dick, just goes into a slow grind.

Harvey slides his hand up Mike's thigh, runs it towards the inside, cups his balls and strokes a few fingers behind – Mike shudders first at the lightness of the touch, then inhaling sharply as Harvey explores the stretch of Mike around him. 

He tests the amount of give left in the muscle, pressing along the rim and Mike's entire body bows. His grip tightens in Harvey's hair and as far as Harvey can tell, he completely stops breathing, making half-hurt half-encouraging sounds as Harvey forges forward, pressing along the seam of their bodies that doesn't want to give.

Until it does, and his fingertip slides in alongside his cock and the tension in Mike's body seems to both release and ratchet tighter at the same time – at least now he's panting. "Jesus, you really love this," Harvey breathes.

"Yeah. Oh, fuck yeah."

Mike seems to be moving a little easier again, so Harvey wiggles his finger, inching it a little more firmly inside, and Mike's breath sounds more like a sob – mostly like it's a good sound but "Still ok?"

"There is not a word for how okay this really is."

Harvey reaches for the lube and tries to blindly squirt more out where he needs it – is successful, mostly, because he couldn't gives less of a fuck about the sheets right now. To spread it around, he has to move the finger in Mike (carefully), sliding side-to-side and incredibly conscious of the way that it pulls on the rim. Mike turns and buries his face against Harvey's neck , hips moving restlessly like he can't decide whether he's trying to assist or escape, and either way reminded to hold still every time he twitches. 

"Jesus. Fuck. Harvey."

He keeps playing with the rim, his own dick throbbing inside of Mike. “Can you come like this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, if you stroke me off. But I don’t wanna – ” Mike loses the plot for a minute as Harvey starts to fondle his cock. Sure enough, it firms up and he starts to stroke it, hand still slick from earlier. Mike gasps, giving one thrust into his fist before he hisses and goes still again. “Shit. Don’t wanna come yet though.”

Harvey tightens his grip just a bit, and Mike makes a satisfied humming sound, arching as hard as he can without making Harvey’s finger pull on his rim. The effort’s undone when Harvey, experimenting, twists the finger in his ass to make it thicker. Mike holds his breath as Harvey does it again, and again, very careful not to tip it into actual pain, building up until he can press a second fingertip alongside the first. 

It makes Mike tremble, and scratch at Harvey hard enough to leave a welt. 

“Why don’t you want to come yet?” Harvey asks, and Mike chokes out a laugh.

“Hell, I’m starting to…. God. I just. Want you to fuck me for a while first. Long as you want. Hard as you want.” Harvey’s still stroking him, playing with his ass, and he sounds shaky and desperate, unconvinced when he says, “I can get off later. I’m…Harvey….”

He could push and get Mike off just like this – the thought of doing so right after Mike told him he wanted differently is…unexpectedly appealing. So appealing that he’s sure he’d get himself off quickly as well. But he understands how Mike feels – as unbearably turned on as he is, he wants to draw it out even longer. 

He eases his fingers out of Mike, and Mike’s whole body sags against him in relief, asshole clenching down on Harvey’s dick in their absence. Harvey turns Mike’s face and takes Mike’s mouth. It’s sloppy and desperate and the worst possible angle for both of them but it’s intense and Harvey really thinks this whole thing might be the best bad idea he’s ever had. Which is saying something. He jacks Mike’s cock and plays with his balls and keeps his eyes on the drugged-out look in Mike’s between kisses. 

He plays with Mike until Mike’s begging off, swearing he’s about to come, and then he wraps Mike’s fingers around the top of the headboard and holds them there with his own hands. Mike braces himself for the single hard thrust Harvey gives him, face tilted so Harvey can see him bite his lip.

He grinds them together, watching Mike’s eyes roll back under his lids. “What’s your favorite thing about being fucked?”

Mike’s eyes flutter open. “No,” he moans. “No talking, just – ”

Harvey lets him take another hard thrust. “If you want me to fuck you as long and hard as I can, you’ll answer.” Mike tries to thrust back but he won’t let him. Harvey turns against Mike’s ear. “C’mon, Mike. Tell me where to press. You don’t want me to get you off yet, so. Tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

Mike’s groan is more frustration than pleasure as Harvey keeps them pressed together tightly. His head falls against Harvey’s shoulder. “I’ve never tried to…okay. I love sex. I love topping. I love fucking women and men. But there’s something about getting fucked…when someone fucks me just right, it’s. Overwhelming. It makes me _dumb_ , breaks me down to just _wanting_ and _taking_ and there’s nothing else like it, at least that I’ve ever found.”

Harvey’s hips pulse against Mike – so fucking turned on, he can’t keep still. Mike’s every bit as obstinate and unwilling to be manipulated as Harvey, and hearing him talk about how he wants to be broken down is – “It gets you off.” – reducing Harvey to stating the obvious.

Mike rocks onto Harvey as much as Harvey will allow, so obviously enjoying the _thought_ of how he likes to be fucked that it makes him edgy and impatient. “It’s almost better than getting me off…it….” Harvey watches over Mike’s shoulder as Mike squeezes his cock and starts playing with it roughly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love coming while I’m getting fucked – it gets me off harder than I can any other way – but that’s not…. Even if I’m soft, it’s….” 

The squirm of Mike against him evolves into full-on fucking and Harvey lets it. He lets Mike take his hand off the headboard and bury it back into Harvey’s hair while he fucks himself onto Harvey’s dick. In fact, he rests his hand on Mike’s waist and starts to work his hips in counterpoint.

He’s waiting for Mike to say more until he starts producing staccato little moans on every impact and working their bodies together harder. “It’s what, Mike?”

“Uh?”

Harvey leans in and smiles against the swell of Mike’s shoulder at the response. “Even when you’re soft, getting fucked is….”

“Oh. It’s. Jesus, Harvey, I don’t know, can’t we just – ”

Mike lurches off-balance as Harvey takes ahold of his hips and starts powering into him, not steady til he braces both hands on the headboard and locks his elbows straight. He has just enough time to assume the position and gasp out, “Thank Christ,” before Harvey abruptly slows. “Oh my _God_ , _WHY_?”

“We can’t ‘just.’ But I thought I’d try to jog your memory.”

Mike laughs, a helpless, real sound. “God, you’re like a dog with a bone.” Harvey opens his mouth and Mike says, “ _Don’t_ say it.”

Harvey didn’t even try to stop fucking Mike this time; they both want it too badly. All the same, he’s holding back from giving Mike what he really wants, and Harvey doesn’t need to prompt him again.

“I don’t know how to…it’s like coming, but not like it at all. It doesn’t feel quite as good as getting off, but it lasts so much longer.” Mike turns his head and kisses Harvey, eyes lidded but coherent. “That’s really all I can tell you. But I can show you. Sometime.” 

Harvey can’t quite decipher if the bolt to his stomach is lust or nerves, but he doesn’t want Mike to think he’s dismissing the idea out of hand. There are very few sex acts Harvey’s unwilling to try . “Maybe sometime.”

Mike nods, face soft before his mouth quirks. “In the meantime....”

Harvey rolls his eyes a little, just because Mike deserves it for being a pushy little shit, but he picks up the pace a little and gives Mike time to brace himself before he starts to experiment – how hard, how deep, how fast Mike really wants it. 

The answer’s a lot of all three, with Mike powering back against him to up the ante further, and when the legs of the bedframe start leaving the floor and returning with prejudice, Harvey spares a little sympathy for his downstairs neighbor. 

Just...not much. Not when he has Mike like this, spine arched and pouring sweat, moaning like this feels so good it actually _hurts_ him. 

They’re both sweating so hard, Harvey can’t get a grip anywhere on Mike’s body, hands sliding over skin whenever he tries. Harvey’s mouth is already tangy from licking his own lips but he can’t keep his mouth off Mike, and every lick, every nip makes Mike gasp for air, so he doesn’t try. 

‘As long as he can’ goes quicker than Harvey wants it to. “Come, or switch positions?”

“Come. I want you to come.”

“You want – ”

“No. I’ll – ” Mike laughs, breathless. “No way I can hold myself up one-handed right now. I’ll lose a tooth.”

“I can give you a hand,” Harvey says against his ear. Mike shudders.

“No. I’ll wait. I want you to get off. After, I can….”

“Okay.” 

Once Harvey stops trying to keep from shooting off, it doesn’t take that long to get there. He sits back on his heels and enjoys the view of Mike’s back, Mike’s blissed-out face, Mike’s ass, which is all muscle and consequently spectacular. He speeds up when the pleasure rolls up behind his eyes and he comes, pressing tight against Mike’s body and panting against his mouth.

“Jesus.”

“I converted you so hard, you’re born-again; that’s actually impressive.”

Harvey purses his lips against a smile – he _won’t_ reward terrible jokes or Mike will never stop making them – and holds the base of the condom while he pulls out. His balance is a little weak on the way to the wastebasket. 

When he turns, he sees that Mike is sprawled on his back, playing with his cock. His eyes had clearly been fixed on Harvey’s ass; they linger on Harvey’s body until he crawls onto the bed, and half on top of Mike. 

“Want some help with that?” Harvey closes in on a kiss before Mike can answer, and Mike hums against his mouth. 

When they pull apart, they don’t go far. “You can keep doing that. And I want you to play with my hole.”

“Yeah? While you jack yourself off?” Mike nods, looking so fucking wrecked by the idea it’s ridiculous. “While I _watch_ you jack off?” Mike doesn’t acknowledge it this time aside from the way he wets his mouth as his color rises. 

Harvey eases off of Mike and pulls Mike’s closest knee to his chest, rubbing Mike’s sphincter and watching him throw his head back and fuck his own fist. 

“You’re certainly pretty enough to watch.” He slips his fingers in Mike’s ass and it’s probably too gentle, but Mike doesn’t ask him for hard use. He just rolls his face towards Harvey and looks at him with an expression Harvey always labeled as hero worship but which is apparently far less pure. 

After all the frantic fucking, the whole thing is almost lazy, fitting Harvey’s post-coital mood to a tee. Mike seems to like it this way – contradictory here as everywhere else, or maybe just exhausted. Harvey is, pleasantly so, and he doesn’t bother fucking Mike with his fingers. He just plays with his hole while they kiss until Mike’s breath grows short and sticks in his throat; he comes.

After a minute, Harvey frees his fingers and Mike stretches his leg out, but otherwise, neither of them move. Harvey’s still sweaty enough to stick to the sheets and they should really do something about that before they sleep or else it’s going to be disgusting. 

When Mike rolls over, though, Harvey only moves enough to slot up behind him and throw the top sheet over their waists. 

“You know,” Mike says, “It isn’t _too_ shocking for Harvey Specter to be gay, but Harvey Specter being a cuddler...I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“Harvey Specter is whatever the fuck he wants to be,” Harvey mumbles. Then he pauses. “But he’s not someone that speaks about himself in the third person. Also, I still like breasts.”

“Me too,” Mike yawns. “We should…you know. On major holidays, maybe. Or birthdays. Or just to celebrate being awesome.”

Harvey smiles in spite of himself. “Are you actually planning our sex life right now? A little presumptuous, isn’t it?”

“Mm. You want this. You wouldn’t’ve fucked me for a one-off. Unless it was bad. And that was _not_ bad. I rocked your world.”

Harvey’s grinning. “You did?”

“You think you’re so smart, but I’ve seen you naked.” Mike pauses, and snickers. “And I’ll probably see you naked again.”

That actually sounds vaguely…. “Barenaked Ladies? Really, Mike?”

“It’s, you know…theme,” he mutters, and promptly falls asleep.


End file.
